The New Freedom
by Tani-san
Summary: The crew of Serenity get a singular job that takes them to a few new places. Post Series, PreBDM
1. Chapter 1

Before we start, I have a couple things I want to say –

One. I could not have done this without my alpha/beta/gamma betas (yes, there are three, bask in their glorious plurality). Silvy, Duo, Sarah – I owe you my life and this story, and also possibly my firstborn child.

Two. I have this idea in my head of getting really rich and giving Joss Whedon a ridiculous sum of money and saying, "GO." When that happens, I may very well end up owning part of Firefly, but for now… well, I have a part time job.

The New Freedom

Ch. 1

"Now, what'd you say that was? A _moose_?"

Krayner puffed out his chest and shoved his thumbs through his belt loops, mustache bristling with pride.

"Yup. Used to roam all over Earth-That-Was, I guess. I picked up this here beauty for a steal – a positive _steal_ – of 130,000 credits from a fella on Ceres. This here moose-head is a good 200 years old, had Monty put it up here 'cause I ran outta wall space."

"Huh."

Mal gaped up at the stuffed monstrosity mounted on the wall. Inara, arm laced delicately through his, smiled beatifically at the oil tycoon in front of them and gestured towards it gracefully.

"Surely, Mr. Krayner, there cannot be two of such a thing in all the universe." Only the slight tilt of a perfectly shaped eyebrow betrayed her as less than enraptured.

Krayner bared a gap-toothed grin at her. "Well now, you can just call me Max. Don't like being any more formal than we have to."

Mal tore his attention from the thing's hypnotic glass eyes and once again focused on the man in front of him. "Well, ain't that nice. Good to see there's still such a thing as friendly folk round these parts."

"Think nothing of it! Speaking of," Krayner added, surveying the somewhat run-down saloon around them, "what brings you to 'these parts'? Don't get many visitors these days, most just swing right by to Persephone."

"Well, my ship decided it felt like taking the scenic route, all on its lonesome. We're grounded for a few days, but we'll be out of your hair soon enough."

"Now, now, there's no need to go rushing off! This town ain't got much to offer in the way of fancy entertainments, but I've got one or two attractions that might make your stay a bit more bearable."

Inara, who had been quietly studying the decapitated moose, graced him with a glowing smile. "Thank you for your kind offer, Max. We've had something of a trying journey, but we'd be honored to pay a visit tomorrow morning…?"

"That does sound nice," Max replied, stroking his moustache with an ill-concealed leer. "Y'all feel free to stop by whenever suits your fancy. My home is your home."

Mal's face broke into a cat-canary smirk Inara knew all too well. She sighed and shifted her grip on his arm.

"I am very glad to hear that, Max. We'll be stopping by."

--

"How'd it go?"

Zoe was waiting in the doorway when the hatch lowered, arms crossed over her chest. Mal strode past her into the cargo bay. "It went good. We got ourselves an in. Kaylee got that tracking device up and running yet?"

"Just about."

Inara drifted up towards her shuttle with a brief smile at Zoe. She'd been quieter lately, almost passive, and she didn't rile at Mal near the way she used to. It was enough to make Zoe wonder, but she'd never been one for girl talk – that was more Kaylee's forte. Having rationalized a course of non-action, she followed Mal into the dining room.

"So what's the cargo this time?" Book asked as he chopped the carrots he'd picked up at the market. Mal breezed past him to his bunk, jerking off the bow tie as he went. Zoe shrugged at the Shepard.

"Didn't he say something about a 'kerry-bow'?" Wash asked as he considered an apple carefully. Zoe leaned on the back of his chair with a smile.

Book raised an eyebrow. "Caribou? But they died out, before we even left Earth-That-Was."

"Frozen." River's voice rang out in the short pause.

"Hm?" Book – much like the rest of them – had gotten used to muddling through River's cryptic statements.

"Men like marshmallows." She puffed up her cheeks for emphasis and hugged her arms. "They need to feel warm again. Is there hot chocolate?"

Book blinked, perplexed. "I… perhaps we've a packet or two hidden amongst the coffee. Do you want some?"

River gave him an Are-You-Stupid? look usually reserved for Simon in his more ridiculous moments. "Not _now._"

"…oh." Book set the kettle back down.

"Have to save it. For later. For when _we're_ marshmallows." She stalked out, leaving Book, Wash and Zoe staring after her in confusion.

"So, wait, when she says we're gonna be marshmallows, does she mean fat?" He looked up at Zoe anxiously. "You won't get fat, will you, honey?"

"I'm more interested in this caribou." Book interrupted. "Zoe, what do you know about it?"

She perched on the arm of Wash's chair, hand resting on his shoulder. "What do you know about Boreas?"

"Boreas? Not much." Book shrugged. "It's one of the outer planets, supposedly very cold. Why?"

"Not just very cold," Wash cut in, "freezing. Constantly. Almost year round, a couple of weeks for sunshine, then it goes straight back to frozen rock. Something wrong with the atmo generator, right pumpkin?"

Zoe nodded. "Exactly. There were some miner types dumped down there early on, and they've managed to do for themselves. One or two got really wealthy off of the iron deposits."

"So how does an extinct species fit into all this? For that matter, how do _we_ fit into all this?"

"Do you know what taxidermy is?" Zoe asked. Book shook his head.

"'s dead animals, is what," Jayne chimed in as he entered the room, thumping into a chair. "Uncle used to be real keen on stuffing up coyotes 'n the like. Gave me the heebie jeebies."

"And these… stuffed animals, they serve what purpose exactly?"

"They used to be used as hunting trophies," Zoe answered. "Kill an animal, cut off its head, stuff it and mount it on your wall, and you've got–"

"Manliness on a plaque." Wash said knowingly, tapping his nose. Jayne looked interested.

"Later on, people started putting 'em in museums," Zoe continued, shooting her husband an exasperated look. "Sort of getting close to nature without the nature part, and instead of just the head, you'd get the whole animal."

"Amazing," Book said, sitting down opposite Wash and Zoe. "And they last? They don't decay?"

"Well, we're not saying they're not gonna be in bad shape, but this guy Kraynar keeps pretty good care of his toys. Plus, these things were freeze-dried, way back when – as long as it's been kept dehydrated, this thing should be pretty intact."

"Should be?" Jayne looked disgusted. "Hell, I ain't hauling around no rotting kerry-boo, job or no job."

"Well, don't you go worrying about that, Jayne." Jayne twisted his head to stare at Mal as he tramped down the stairs. "From all reports, this thing's looking pretty good."

"I must ask – what does the client want with this… freeze dried caribou?"

Zoe answered for him. "Most of that planet's money is made on mining, but every year it's getting harder and harder to find new deposits. Nothing grows on that planet; there's nothing to feed a herd even if you could keep one from freezing to death."

"Our guy's aiming to clone this caribou, make somethin' that can live on that planet," Mal cut in. "On Earth-That-Was, these things lived in ice most of the year round. They're built for the environment, just gotta get 'em started again. Now, where is that _feng le _mechanic of mine? Kaylee!"

"Try the engine room, Mal. Where she always is," Inara said, gliding past him into the room. Mal gave her a strained look – something Zoe had been seeing a lot more of lately – and disappeared.

At the table, the conversation had moved on to taxonomy – _No, no,_ Wash was saying, _that's when you name things, it's entirely different ­_– but Zoe's eyes were still on Inara. With a thoughtful squeeze to her husband's shoulder, she stood and followed Mal out.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow. Second chapter. Feels… official, you know? Anyways, here's the usual disclaimer: don't own it, etc. I'm sure you've heard it said a thousand times in a thousand creative ways, so let me keep that brief.

Just two little tidbits to accompany this chapter… first off, this chapter is largely a bridge to the next one, what you might call "filler." Things'll start progressing soon. Additionally, thank you to my betas for putting up with my constant demands (I am eternally in your debt).

The New Freedom

Chapter Two

Kaylee's familiar laugh spilled out of the engine room and into the cargo bay, mingling with the lower tones of Simon's voice.

"And Anna _told_ me, 'you can't feed that to the dog,' but of course I thought she was just –"

Simon stopped at the sound of an impatient foot tapping against the metallic floor, both looking up guiltily to see Mal looming in the doorway. He stood with hands on his hips in a stance that reminded Kaylee of her papa in his more irritated moments.

"Kaylee, where is that _gorram_ tracker?"

She blinked at him, surprised at his demand, but it was Simon who recovered first. "We were just –"

"Ain't you got a sister to see to, Doctor?" Mal interrupted, giving him a pointed stare. Simon fled with one last lingering, apologetic glance at Kaylee.

"Aw, Cap'n, what'd you have to go and do that for?" Kaylee asked, pulling herself to her feet, a slight frown gracing her features. "We were just talking, is all."

"Kaylee, you know full well we work before we play." Mal said in a condescending tone, the familiar words making Kaylee flinch. "Now, we need that tracker, have –"

"But Cap'n –"

He ignored her. " – _have _needed it for days, and here you are lollygagging about with some fancypants Doctor who, I might add, wouldn't give you the time of day if'n he weren't stuck on this ship by what you might call unfortunate circumstances."

What had started out as a speech about work ethic had somehow transformed into a lecture on shipboard romances. Mal blinked at the realization, but had only a brief time to wonder at his thought process before Kaylee reacted.

With a clang, she tossed aside the wrench she'd been toying with and picked up another bauble Mal hadn't seen before. She dropped it into his hands as she stomped past.

"Here, Captain. Your_ gorram_ tracker."

Mal caught it on a reflex. He turned it over in his hands and, with a sigh, turned around to call after his distraught mechanic.

"Kaylee –"

He gave a jolt of surprise and nearly dropped the damn thing. Zoe smirked at him from the doorway.

"You know, sometimes I do consider putting a bell on you." He informed her with a resentful glare. Zoe acknowledged the comment with a nod of her head, but didn't respond.

"Was there something you wanted?" He knew full well why she was here, but if he actually made her ask, chances were she'd not pry and leave it alone.

"Inara."

A string of curses ran through Mal's head in quick succession, but the look on Zoe's face told him he'd best not say any of them.

"She's leaving, isn't she."

It wasn't a question. Mal suddenly found the engine room a mite crowded and strode past her, shoulders hunched, into the cargo bay. "How d'you figure?"

"You've been fighting less than usual. Also, when you're having secret discussions on the catwalk, you should try and keep your voice down."

Mal's hand unwittingly gripped the railing, and he surveyed the various crates and boxes in the hold with a detached interest. "Wash knows, then?"

"He's a sound sleeper." Zoe stood beside him, back to the railing. "Mal, have you tried –"

"It's her decision, Zoe," Mal interrupted. Whatever was on the tail end of that sentence, he didn't want to hear. "Go see if dinner's ready."

"…Yes, sir." Mal couldn't help an internal wince at the sudden use of his rank. Zoe gave him a look that said, _This is a stupid order and you know it_, but left anyway.

He _knew_ shipboard romances complicated things, that it muddied the waters and made everything more difficult than it needed to be. Zoe and Wash were the apparent exceptions to the rule – they'd managed to remove themselves from a love shape that really didn't need any more vertices. So why in the hell couldn't things be that simple all around?

Mal stood ruminating for a moment longer, before releasing his deathgrip on the railing and flexing his sore fingers. "If wishes were horses…" Mal repeated the saying into the air, then smiled ruefully as Jayne's adaptation came to mind. Tossing the repaired tracker from one hand to the other, he ambled up the stairs towards the bridge.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys, sorry about the lack of actual plot in the last chapter, I put in extra to make up for it this time. I do want to say as a slight forewarning – this entire story is a transition, to take place between when the series ends and the movie begins. Thus, the things that are reality in the movie are going to happen here. Inara and Book are going to leave. Simon and Kaylee are never going to actually get down and dirty. I'm a little limited by the things that are already true – so… just know that.

Anyway, as always, love to my betas. And also I don't own it.

Most importantly – please review. This is my first full-blown Firefly fic, and any criticism/love/neutral reactions that I get are like balm to my paranoid, "is anyone reading this?" author's soul. SO PLZ. I know you guys are out there, it would just totally make my day if more than 1/100 would actually SAY something.

So without further ado,

-

The New Freedom

Ch. 3

Mal stopped outside the Inara's shuttle at the sound of voices and pressed his ear against the door.

"– the third time you've called to tell us there's been a delay. If I didn't know better, I'd say you weren't coming at all."

"I am sorry, _Wai po_. Something came up."

A long pause, punctuated by an irritated snort. "Inara, this is silly. Stop dancing around and come home – we've missed you."

"And I you. I'll be home as soon as possible."

A sudden bark of laughter made Mal jerk his ear back from the door, then replace it with a growl when he realized what he'd done.

"As soon as possible, eh? Bao bei, if you have your way that'll be never."

"_Wai po_…"

"_Tzao ge_, girl, I get it. No more delays."

The click of the vid screen going off was Mal's cue to enter.

"A delay? On account of little ol' me? Aw, you shouldn't have."

Inara's initial panic was soon covered by an exasperated look. "Do you have _any_ concept of privacy at all?"

"Eh. Not so much."

"Besides, without me, this job is a bust." She rose with an unladylike shrug of her shoulders. "Think of it as a going away present."

Mal's smug smile dropped from his face, the way it had been doing lately whenever he looked at her. "Right. Courteous of you to stick around." He turned to leave.

"Mal–"

"No more delays, you're right. This job shouldn't take outside a couple days and we'll drop you on Sihnon first thing. Be ready to move in a couple of hours." He spun on his heel and fled.

-

"Hey, Wash?"

"Hey Kaylee, what's on your mind?"

"Are the captain and Inara there yet?"

"Just touched down, got a wave from Mal saying they were on their way in."

"Oh, okay, good."

"Something wrong?"

"…No, nothing."

-

"…try not to talk, and _follow my lead_." Inara hissed, lacing her arm though Mal's and leading him none-too-gently down the path to Kraynar's house. She had on one of her more flattering dresses, Mal noticed. It was a flowing little number, and the red cloth shimmering against gold brocade brought out the tanned hue of her skin as she paced gracefully at his side.

"And what," he drawled, "gives you the idea that I can't handle myself?"

"Last time you tried, you got stabbed. Twice." She whispered vehemently. A passing gardener gave them a quizzical look.

"Well, that was under extenuating circumstances, and may I point out that I stabbed him back? 'sides, I've matured. My dueling days are well behind me."

Inara gave him a doubtful glance, but chose not to comment. "Just remember, I am your _personal_ Companion, and you are a respectable gentleman."

Mal grumbled at the phrase "personal Companion." It reminded him far too much of Atherton Wing, but he and Inara had already argued this point, and he'd grudgingly admitted that it was the only way to explain their association. Didn't stop him from _silently_ resenting, though.

"Names please?"

Mal froze, hand reaching automatically for a gun that wasn't there while searching for the source of the mechanical voice. Inara rolled her eyes.

"Inara Serra and Malcolm Reynolds."

"How come your name gets to go first?" Mal demanded as the voice registrar analyzed Inara's response. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand.

"Shut up, Mal."

"Welcome, Malcolm Reynolds and Inara Serra."

Mal smirked at her triumphantly as the double doors swung inwards.

Kraynar's home was, at best, garish. Ornaments of all shapes and sizes dripped from gilded walls, and a huge mantle adorned each fireplace (there were four that Mal could see). Aresian rugs covered the floor with holographic, moving depictions of an old-fashioned hunt, complete with bugles and gory swordfights.

Mal had to close his eyes to keep from getting sick. Inara swayed on his arm.

"Well," she said faintly, "this should be fun."

The muffled thump of boots on carpet made Mal force his eyes open again. "Why, hello!" Kraynar greeted enthusiastically, grabbing Mal's hand in an energetic handshake and nodding his head towards Inara. "Can I get you folks some breakfast?"

Mal turned green at the thought. "NO."

"We've already eaten, thank you." Thank god for Inara, superwoman, able to overcome tactlessness in a single bound Mal considered, as an afterthought, that the incense might be making him giddy. "You've a lovely home, Mr. Kraynar." She feigned a gasp of delight. "Oh, is that a Clionian statue? However did you get your hands on one?"

"My, the lady does have a sharp eye." Kraynar winked at Mal, who was too queasy to return the favor. "That Clionian? Came off a family after the war. Seems they'd come down on the side of the browncoats, bit 'em in the _pigu_ something fierce." He laughed unpleasantly. "By the time I came along, they'd sell it for any price I could pay." Mal's smile was tight, but Inara's was as infallible as always.

"You have impeccable taste, Mr. Kraynar."

He frowned petulantly. "I thought I told you to call me Bill, Miss Inara." The reproach in his voice was laughable, but Inara didn't show it on her face. She laid a soothing hand on his arm.

"Of course, Bill. Please, excuse me." He beamed at the small show of favor, and Mal was forcibly reminded of a dog that had just been given a treat. The comparison did not flatter "Bill" in Mal's esteem.

"Where are my manners?" Bill demanded rhetorically. Mal opened his mouth to tell him exactly where his manners were and invite him to join them, but Inara's abrupt elbow in his side stopped him. "Let me give you the grand tour!" He set off at a rapid pace in front of them, babbling about his tiger skin rug and collection of matryoshka dolls. Mal leaned down so his mouth was next to Inara's ear.

"Was that entirely necessary?"

"Remember the stabbing? Let's avoid that."

"Oddly enough, the only one poking anyone around here is you. I'm pretty sure Atherton's sword was less sharp than your elbows anyway, so – ow!"

"Mal, be _quiet_." She whispered fiercely, then spoke up in a louder voice. "Are those really Hasturian tapestries, Bill? The workmanship is remarkable."

-

"Hey, Wash?"

"Yeah?"

"How long are they gonna be there for?"

"'Nara said social calls last somewhere around two hours, give or take. Probably try and cut it short by begging a headache, but who knows?"

"Two hours? Of talking?"

"Rich people are strange. Not that's we'd know what that's like, of course."

-

Inara gasped in surprise as they entered the next room, a large, spacious chamber with vaulted ceilings and bay windows for better lighting.

"Oh, my."

Mal could only stare, any and all words frozen by the room's startling appearance.

"Huh."

It was full of animals, but not animals like Mal had ever seen. He'd hunted deer once or twice, back on Shadow, but there were things in here that were twice as big, with antlers as long as Mal's arm. A feline of some sort, spotted, stared at him with fangs bared in a frozen snarl. Something that resembled one of Wash's dinosaurs was stretched out on its belly, seemingly taking a nap.

"Ain't they something?" Bill asked, surveying the room with apparent satisfaction. "My own personal collection. Couldn't find a bigger one in the whole 'verse, I reckon."

"My goodness, Bill, what are these things? They look so familiar, and yet I can't imagine ever having seen them before."

"Well now, you might've seen pictures in a textbook, a learned lady like yourself. They're all from Earth-That-Was, every last one. Go on," he added, noticing her hand stretching hesitantly towards one of the animals, "you can touch 'em. They won't bite." He laughed at his own joke.

Mal realized the slight problem with their plan. He wandered casually to Inara's side and laid a casual hand on the animal she was touching – the tag said "mink" – and whispered in her ear.

"Now, I don't suppose a 'learned lady' like yourself," he paused and glanced at Bill, who was watching their reactions with a self-gratified delight, "would know which of these is a caribou?"

Inara bit her lip thoughtfully and walked to a different animal, something large and shaggy with antlers. "Bill," she called, "what is this creature?"

"That, I believe, would be a reindeer." Bill answered, stroking his moustache pensively. Mal and Inara exchanged exasperated looks as she began to drift towards the next deer-shaped creature in the room. "Funny things, reindeer. Y'ever hear that queer story 'bout Santa Claus?"

For all that Mal had mostly stuck to Inara's request for silence, he considered mentioning that, for the majority of his childhood, his Chrismases were entirely centered around that "queer story." He nodded instead. "I'm familiar with it."

"Well, these darn things were the ones supposed to carry that fat guy around." He chuckled, belly jiggling like the man in the old poem. Inara's considering look told Mal that she, too, was imagining him in a red suit. "Can you imagine? Reckon not even a toddler could believe these things can fly around the 'verse with presents for all the good girls and boys. Had another name, too," he added pensively. "Kerry… carving? Can-something?"

"Caribou?" Mal offered.

"That was it!" Kraynar snapped his fingers. "Caribou! My, Mr. Reynolds, d'you know much about this sort of thing?"

Mal shook his head and strolled over to the caribou, surreptitiously removing the tracker from his pocket as he did so. "Not really, just heard 'em mentioned once or twice." He stroked the thing once from head to tail, tracker leaving his hand and sticking to one furry haunch. "Sure would like to know more though."

"Well, I don't see why not!" Kraynar looked overjoyed to have a willing audience. "If you'll just follow me, I've some excellent specimen awaiting us in the parlor –"

He motioned for them to follow and bustled off across the vast room. Mal grinned at Inara, the happy expression that indicated a job going right.

"Alright, tracker's in place, we'd best be going." He muttered. Inara's eyes widened as he called to their host. "Hey, Bill!"

"_Mal!_" Inara's scandalized whisper and desperate look made him pause.

"We, um," he hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh and pointed to an animal at random. "…were wondering what that was?"

Kraynar raised one bushy eyebrow skeptically. "That's a bear."

Mal looked at where his finger was pointing, then stuffed it guiltily into his pockets. "Well, how about that. So it is." He offered Kraynar a sheepish smile, long enough for him to turn around and continue walking.

They trailed behind Kraynar, out of the still-life room and into another that seemed to be holiday-themed. Inara was studying a porcelain cherub with a diaper and a bow when Mal appeared behind her and set a hand on her shoulder.

"Inara," he said in a low voice, guiding her nonchalantly towards a window. "You wanna explain to me what we're still doing here?"

"We can't leave yet," she answered, reaching out to touch a dream catcher that was pinned to the wall. "We have a good ten minutes of tour left, followed by an hour of polite conversation about society and the weather."

"The _weather_? Listen, Inara, I know that it's generally not healthy for me to try and understand your world, but this is _kuang zhe de_. Now, try and faint or something, because I do not want to put up with this guy for another hour."

"Mal, I cannot faint on command. Besides, if we leave, it will make him suspicious. Is the phrase 'rich and paranoid' ringing any bells? We stay."

"Okay, so no fainting. How about I try and get us thrown out?"

Inara shot him a look that said clear as words, _Don't You Dare._ She wandered away, joining Bill by a fireplace as tall as she was and striking up a conversation about the marble work.

Mal busied himself with looking out the window long enough to get his irritation under control, then followed Bill and Inara out of the room and into a different chamber that he could only assume was the parlor.

_Right, one hour. I can handle that. Besides, she never actually _said_ not to get us thrown out, and how hard can it be to act civil for a little while?_ Mal passed a particularly brazen painting that involved some sort of primate and what looked like a coconut.

"_Ai ya. Wo men wan le."_ He muttered to himself. He shot a glare at the maid who was regarding him suspiciously and followed the two glitterati down the hall.

_-_

"Hey Wash?"

"_Yes,_ Kaylee, I'm right here."

"They're gonna kill each other, aren't they."

"Oh, absolutely."

-


End file.
